


Things You Can Do

by WheatleyHastings, yugidementia



Series: Brian Wecht AUs [3]
Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Blow Jobs, College AU, Edging, Established Relationship, Facials, Fluff and Smut, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Light Bondage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Professor AU, Submission, Teacher-Student Relationship, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WheatleyHastings/pseuds/WheatleyHastings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yugidementia/pseuds/yugidementia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College Prof AU Brian - After procrastinating on a paper of his, date night with Brian only leads to less time to work on it. Rather than take up on his extension offer, you find a way to finish your paper AND get revenge on him all in one early morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> Since we've been unable to update the plot of Momentum & Collision, please humbly accept this smut set in the same universe but a flash forward in time to established relationship.

It had been a wonderful, calm date night with Brian: going out to eat, talking about campus happenings, and of course him keeping you up-to-date on the latest discoveries in science relevant to him. As you’re leaving the tip for the waiter, he makes a suggestion:

“Oh, hey, let’s head back to your place,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Brian,” you furrow your eyebrows, a little guilty about your confession, “I have to write a paper for _your_ class.”

“You should’ve done it already… but.. it’s fine,” he waves his hand at you, replacing it back into his pocket, “I’ll give you an extension,” he sighs and smiles at you.

“But...the students will notice you being so lenient with me,” you point out, but he doesn’t hear, that and his smile makes you melt, so you really can’t argue with him.

* * *

 

Back at your place, in bed, you put on one of the newer shows Netflix added; and after the first episode with some cuddling, Brian had initiated a series of long, loving kisses that distracted the two of you from watching the second episode. And halfway through the third episode, he’s fallen asleep against you, you rubbing his back under the quilt keeping him warm. Once he started snoring, confirming that he was in deep sleep, you carefully got up to turn off the TV and light and go to bed. You were a little annoyed, you hadn’t gotten any work done on your paper! As you climbed into bed, you reminded yourself that you have one more day before the actual deadline, and you’re hoping to get it done without needing the extension Brian offered.

* * *

 

Brian blinks open his eyes as he stirs awake the next morning, the first thing he notices is how bright the room is. How late is it? He swears he had put an alarm on his phone to wake him up, to get ready for the day’s lecture. He goes to rub his eyes, but he finds his arm getting caught on something. He turns his head to see what the deal is, why can’t he move his arms? He’s still waking up, eyes are still adjusting to the brightness, and that’s when he sees his arms are tied. He shoots to sit up straight but his legs are restrained as well. Panic nearly sets in, he nearly shouts for you but then he notices that you’re at the other side of the room, at your desk, in your jammies, writing on your laptop. Brian makes a distressed noise, sleep still in his voice, confusion sounding abundantly clear.

“Mornin’, babe,” you say nonchalantly.

“...What? Morning, but what?”

“Oh, not used to this?” You're not looking at him as you speak, you're moving your laptop over to the bed to sit in the space between his open, tied ankles, which were quite literally tied with by the ties he’s left at your place with every night he’s spent over.

“What the hell is goin-” he pulls at the restraints, a puzzled look on his face.

“ _So_ ,” you interrupt him, “you didn’t let me write _your_ paper last night. AND! I'm not gonna be using that extension,” you continue, looking him in the his sleepy, confused eyes.

“And since you took time out of my planned night of work, I figured I could take time out of your work day, right?”

"I have a class to teach!" He protests, tugging against the bindings on his wrists, provided by the belt he was wearing last night.

"I already emailed that Quantum Mechanics was cancelled," you say as you return your gaze to the monitor and type away at your keyboard.

“You had no right...how did you even?” He stops tugging his wrists, too focused on the conversation.

“Your phone is logged into your email. I wouldn’t completely fuck you over, Bri, it’s fine. Just teaching you a lesson about boundaries in this relationship. I am not going to let us get found out because you’re so easy on me in your class with deadlines.”

“And you couldn’t just tell me this?”

“We both know you do better with corporeal learning,” you smirk and look at him.

“I-shut up,” he blushes, still shy about sexual situations and his general inexperience, especially his submission.He’s a little annoyed, mostly bored with the fact he’s got nothing to do. Defeated, he lets his head hit the pillows and stares at your ceiling. “Is this all we’re gonna do?”

“We?” you huff, “ _I_ have a paper to write, I don’t know about you.” and he groans, rolls his eyes, getting ready to settle in for a morning of absolute boredom, before you pipe up with:

“...But I have been writing for..” you pause to check the clock on your screen, “a little over an hour.” You had gotten up earlier than Brian, let him sleep in, and turned off the alarm on his phone because you didn't want him waking on time to teach anyway.

“And?”

“I think I could use a break.”

“Great, fantastic. What, breakfast?” He says sarcastically, though he secretly wishes you’ll make him a really fucked up version of breakfast in bed.

“Nah, I had something else in mind.”

You put your laptop aside and lean over his lower frame to kiss at his underwear, he’s actually not hard (which is already a miracle) and it's a warm, light smooch over the fabric, intended for his dick. You feel him tense up against your hands touching his inner thighs. You pepper him with more kisses, he wriggles a bit; and just when you feel him grow hot, you move to his tummy to kiss at his happy trail.

You can see him grin a little and then you fall back on your butt, grab your laptop again and return to writing and his face drops.

“What, what's the problem?” You raise an eyebrow at him and he huffs, figuring out what you’re doing to get back at him.

“Nevermind,” he mutters, deciding to try to be patient for you.

You periodically return to him to leave wet kisses on his tighty whities, to lick at the outline of his dick. By the second or third time you feel him grow and strain against the fabric, he starts breathing a little harder and you leave to get a drink and a snack and return to your computer. He closes his eyes, sighs, and waits for the next turn.

* * *

 

"Hey, _Professor_ , you need me to use direct quotes in this shit?" You ask, looking over your screen at him. He turns his head to look at you.

"...What? You're really asking m-"

"Yes or no, Brian."

“...No.”

You thank him by reaching out and rubbing your soft palm against him, above the damp fabric again, only this time it’s dampened by more than just your saliva.

You rub his thigh and slide your hand up his pajama shirt before you feel him shudder. You raise an eyebrow at him, "Your hand was cold," he clarifies.

"Got anything hot I can wrap it around to warm it up for you?" You snort and pull your hand back and resume typing.

* * *

 

It's both a blessing and a curse of how good a view Brian gets of you licking at him when you return to him after several minutes of typing and making faces at your monitor. He appreciates the way you look when you write, and he’ll remember that moment when he reads the paper.

After a while, you’re kind enough to tug his underwear down his thighs and start lapping at his sack, at his base. You’re licking so agonizingly slowly that your tongue gets tired, but you carry on, rubbing your index finger over the head, over the slit, breaking each new bead of precum over and over again.

"Still worried about that lecture you missed?" You ask, amused by the small jump he made at your comment, no doubt you disrupted him from his thoughts.

"I.. I do have tenure.." He stammers, an embarrassed smile threatening to spread on his face. With this response. you smile, and slide off the bed to place your laptop at your desk.

You climb back on, this time on your knees in front of him.

"Good!” you praise, beaming at him, “..but I feel like I'm a bad influence, with you making bad decisions like that.”

"I didn't have a choice!" He whines. You shrug and suck at his tip and it nearly catches him by surprise, he didn’t realize you’re finally gonna give him relief, no more leaving him unattended anymore.

You lick at the head, focusing on the slit that's leaking, and you close your eyes, tasting him. He lets his mouth hang open, soft moans flowing from him, because you’re giving him full attention at last. The wet fabric combined with the forced edging has set all his nerves raw and begging for release.

You keep one hand at his base and the other to stroke him onto your tongue and he lifts his head to watch you, the sight is so pornographic to him-- you bobbing your head to take him into your mouth, the slight hum you make that sends vibrations down his cock makes him curl his toes. He instinctively tries to close his legs around you but let’s out a defeated sigh when the binds on his ankles prevent it.

You trace the vein along his underside and he gasps, the feeling, the sensation almost too much. He whines, to warn you “Oh, fuck, I’m-”

He starts pumping his hips a few times before he can finish the sentence and he’s coming, his hips straining up and staying there. He misses your mouth, gushing over your lips and chin, you wrap your lips over him to catch the rest. He watches with a glazed look in his eye as you swallow and clean him up. You plant delicate kisses on his softening shaft

"Did I tell you how perfect your Ph.D is?' You ask after he’s had a moment to recover, beginning to unknot his nerdy ties around his ankles.

And he takes a second to realize what you mean and he snorts, "Yeah."

"Because I love it," you say, scrunching your nose at him and planting a firm kiss on the head of his dick before it’s sheathed again.

"I love _you-_ " he retorts and he freezes. Fuck. it completely slipped out from him. Suddenly he’s looking up at the ceiling, heart pounding in his ears. He’s convinced everything’s going to go to shit: you’ll rip yourself off him, run away, drop his class, never see him again-

He’s still averting his gaze from you, panic overpowering the pleasure of his orgasm, but he feels you climb and straddle his bare lap. He slowly lowers his head to look at you, sees a smile and he's still red and embarrassed. He can’t believe his first ‘I love you’ was with while he was sweaty and tied up and still catching his breath and you had your hands on his dick, his cum coating your chin.

"...How much?" you whisper while you untie his wrists, gently kissing the imprints of the belt in his skin.

"...A lot," he mumbles after hesitating, afraid of your response. He sets his eyes on his wrists as he rolls them out.

After a short second, you say "I love you too." You kiss him, softly, deeply, and the two of you smile into each other. His panic is fading to gentle butterflies in his stomach and chest.

The kiss escalates after he wraps his big arms around your back. You feel him get hard, it pressing against your stomach and he moans. He’s so eager, feeling so close to being in you, but he doesn't rush the moment and neither do you.

You pull away and he catches his breath to ask, “Condom? I mean- if you want to, that i-”

“Yes, please,” you’re smiling at how he stumbles over his words, similar to the time he first asked you out.

“There’s one in my wallet, can you-” and you’re already reaching for the pants he left the wallet in last night, propping it open and taking it out.

“I _love_ a man that’s prepared,” you whisper to him and he laughs breathily, huskily while you kiss his belly as you roll it down over the head, down his shaft.

You straddle him again and give him a nod of permission to line up at your entrance, but not yet press inside.

“Hey,” he says and you look into his eyes, “I love you.” You smile at him before he slides into you.

The moans that come from you makes him shudder and soon, you’re riding him, he’s groaning and writhing under the force of how hard you’re bouncing on his lap. A room is awash with the sounds of mutual moaned ‘I love you’s.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it please leave comments or kudos. Let us know if you'd like to see more drabbles/one shots in the future.  
> Title is from a song on Brian's Hip Hop Jams playlist  
> [https://play.spotify.com/user/starbombband/playlist/4s0rwQYb0B7FggA5XvTW6m]


End file.
